


Lazy Morning

by TheShitCook



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Sleepy Kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 12:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11231280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShitCook/pseuds/TheShitCook
Summary: Just a lazy morning for Paul in Alexandria, with his lover dozing sleepily next to him.Teen for swearing.





	Lazy Morning

The smell of the morning had been sweet, for the first time since the end of the world. There were no birds singing him awake, but the dim rays of sunshine that filtered in through his curtains were soft and welcoming. If he’d heard the sweet song of even a single bird, he’d probably have assumed to still be dreaming, or more likely dead, experiencing a hallucination between living and dying. For the first few years, all that the stale, morning air ever seemed to bring was the scent of rotting corpses, blood, and steel. But since moving to Alexandria, and since the beginning of what he could only assume was Spring, the air had smelled fresh and sweet, like whenever he would go on long country drives away from his flat in the city. He could hear the trees shifting quietly, leaves rustling as the wind whistled through them. It was odd that of everything he experienced in this new world, waking up pleasantly was one of the most surreal. How accustomed had he become to jerking out of bed violently, sleeping with one eye open while on a supply run, or refusing to sleep at all. Not wanting to risk never waking up again as there always seemed to be somebody at the ready to put a knife in his back. The putrid smell of death had become so engrained in his senses, that the scent of grass and fresh air was so strong it was almost suffocating.

Paul blinked his eyes open slowly, pushing a few loose strands of hair from his eyes and running his tongue over dry lips. He lazily wiped the sleep from his eyes as he brought himself to full consciousness and glanced around the once empty room. Posters of all kinds littered the walls. Some of motorcycles and old cartoons that nobody could find to watch anymore, video games and LOTR scattered about the attic walls. Most of them had been drawn on, childish mustaches and devil horns that made them feel a bit personalized. Weapons and equipment had been hung on the walls with rusty nails for easy access, a coil of rope wrapping around two larger pegs to keep it from falling. There was a shelf filled sparingly with emergency rations in case they got trapped in the room thanks to a herd of walkers somehow lumbering their way into town, though it was highly unlikely now thanks to the heavily fortified walls.

Paul’s eyes landed on the bookshelf that he’d now almost filled thanks to his many supply runs. He’d only managed to bring back three or four books each time but the collection had grown quickly, especially when the rest of the group started to keep a look out for him, bringing back a few classics that weren’t too ruined to read. His dresser sat next to it, filled with clothes he’d picked out on their last run. It had felt so good to choose his own wardrobe again, no longer throwing on whatever he could get his hands on and picking out some clothes that suited his style, which was still rather relaxed and baggy. There was a grouping of trinkets and keepsakes sitting on top of the dresser, something Paul also hadn’t indulged in for a long time.

Paul was almost startled when he recognized the soft snores next to his head. He turned to see his lover, face half buried in his pillow and lips fallen open, a bit of drool threatening at the edge as he nuzzled at the soft sheets. Paul reached for the hand that was thrown across his chest, unclenching the flimsy fist and trailing sleepy kisses along the palm down to his wrist. He let the arm fall limp again as he reached to brush some of the hair from his boyfriend’s eyes, his hand trailing down to cup his scruffy chin and gently caress the beauty mark next to his mouth.

It had been only recently that Daryl allowed sleep to properly take him. If it hadn’t been the night terrors and sleep disorders bringing him awake forcefully, it had been his own internal alarm clock rousing him at ungodly hours of the morning. Paul recalls waking often to see Daryl quietly staring at him, playing with the sheets shyly and chewing at his thumb. Sometimes Paul would ask how long he’d been awake, and sometimes Daryl would answer. Paul knew that Daryl wasn’t the kind to laze about in bed hours after waking, the older man preferred to busy himself the second he was conscious, going for a hunt or helping repair Alexandria’s older buildings. However, Daryl stayed, because he knew how much Paul hated to wake to cold sheets and wondering where his lover had gone. Paul only had to bring it up once, he’d even tried to bring it up casually as to not make a large deal of it, and Daryl hadn’t left before his wake since.

And now, here lay the surly hunter, finally sleeping in later than Paul. His nose was scrunched up gently and a small smirk threatened at his lips every so often. Paul smiled softly to himself, knowing that the hunter must be dreaming of something pleasant, a rare occasion for the man. Paul inched himself closer and Daryl’s arm seemed to grasp at him a little tighter, like a child reaching for his bear and hugging it tightly to his body in a sleepy daze. Paul sighed as he placed a tender kiss to his temple, and then one on his cheek, just below his eye, on the tip of his nose. He heard a snicker and silently cursed himself.

“Did I wake you?” Paul asked gently, voice still rough from sleep. Daryl nodded gently in response and buried his nose into Paul’s collarbone.

“Jesus Christ, think thas’ th’ best wake up call ‘v ever had in mah life…” Daryl voice was still groggy and sleepy as he spoke, lips curling into a gentle smile as he blinked one eye open.

“Thought I told you to call me Paul.” The younger man joked and got a swat on the shoulder.

“Fuck off.” Daryl’s smile only grew wider as he cursed and Paul leaned down to capture those lips in a serene kiss. Daryl responded slowly, tongue peaking out every so often to tease Paul’s lower lip before pulling away.

“Got any plans this mornin’?” Paul whispered into the ear that Daryl didn’t have pressed into his pillow and the hunter grunted as he wracked his brain.

“Got nothin’ till noon, goin’ on a run with Rosita an’ Carl, says he’s sick a babysittin’.” Paul chuckled at that response, the words were a little slurred and gravely, but Paul understood what he meant and trailed his fingertips gently down the older man’s back.

“Means we still got plenty of time to sleep in then?” Paul inquired, trailing kisses down the side of Daryl’s throat and jaw until he reached his collarbone.

“If ya wanna keep sleepin’, ya might wanna stop kissin’ on me like that.” Daryl joked and Paul chuckled against his skin, but reluctantly pulled away. “I’m almos’ disappointed.” Daryl grumbled when Paul’s lips removed themselves from his heated flesh, but Paul’s fingers continued to leave trails of fire across his shoulder blades as he traced lazily.

Paul couldn’t recall when he fell back asleep, but the sweet scent of the wind in the trees and grass would be forever ingrained in his memory as Daryl pulled him even closer, returning to snoring quietly and burying himself in the quilted fabric.


End file.
